


Ice Cream

by Hexcraft



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Food Kink, Ice Cream, Kitchen Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexcraft/pseuds/Hexcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories can be made and kept in all sorts of interesting ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Cream

Shouldering the door open because his arms were full of groceries, Lovino made his way to the kitchen and carefully placed his burden on the counter.  
“Hey, _bastardo!_ ” he yelled, kicking the door shut. “Come help me put these groceries away!”  
In truth, he only wanted the other man’s help because he didn’t know where he was supposed to put everything. This was one of the first times he’d been the one to do the grocery shopping, and he’d only done it because that bastard either forgot half of the list or bought useless things they didn’t need. So Romano had decided to claim the task as his own. That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t going to make his partner help.  
“Antonio!” he shouted, losing his patience after not being answered the first time. “Where are you, you lazy bastard? You’d better not be sleeping!”  
“I’m in the living room, Lovi,” came the muffled reply, and Lovino’s cheeks heated slightly to hear the nickname the Spaniard had given him.  
Huffing, he left the kitchen and stomped his way into the living room, hands fisted at his sides. “ _Bastardo!_ How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”  
Antonio didn’t respond, and Lovino was about to scold the taller man for ignoring him when he realized what had caught his partner’s interest so completely.  
Seated on the floor with the coffee table moved out of the way, Antonio had surrounded himself with photo albums and scrapbooks that he’d put together and collected over the years. Some were so old they looked like they might crumble to dust. Antonio handled each one gently as he flipped from page to page and examined the pictures preserved there.  
“What are you doing?” Speaking softly now, Lovino tiptoed around the precious items and sat on the couch behind Antonio, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the Spaniard’s shoulders in a rare gesture of affection, his knees on either side of the man.  
“Just remembering,” Antonio replied simply, turning another page. Lovino rested his chin on the top of Antonio’s head so he could see the pictures as well. He laughed quietly upon spotting a picture of them at the beach with several other nations; Spain had fallen asleep in the sand and Lovino was sitting beside him, sulking because Antonio’s arm was around his waist so he couldn’t get away. England was beating France over the head with a plastic toy shovel in the background, presumably for making a sexual comment.  
“I remember that day. It was a lot of fun.”  
“It took me two hours just to convince you to get out of the car.”  
“ _Si_ , but…that meant I had all of your attention for two hours,” the Italian whispered, blushing at his admittance and hiding his face in the back of Antonio’s neck. An arm curled around his leg with the hand resting on his knee, and he felt lips brush against the inside of his thigh.  
“You always have all of my attention, _mi tomate._ ”  
Lovino allowed himself a small smile. “Then why didn’t you come help me with the groceries the first time I asked?” he demanded gruffly, pretending to pout, and Spain chuckled.  
“Because I was reminiscing about when you were little.” Gently, he set down the album and picked up another, opening it to the first page. “Look.”  
Still pouting, the smaller male peered over the Spaniard’s shoulder—his mouth fell open slightly and his eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know you still had that.” It was the first drawing he’d ever done for Antonio, messy on water-stained paper and tattered, of the pirate ship Antonio used to sail on while it was docked one morning. Lovino had crept out of bed before dawn so he could get to the dock on time, and it had been almost noon by the time he’d finished the drawing. When he’d returned to the house, Spain had been frantically searching for him for hours and the drawing was the only reason Lovino hadn’t gotten in trouble.  
“I still have all the drawings you gave me.” Turning the pages slowly, he revealed each and every one of Lovino’s little doodles and sketches, even the ones he’d become so frustrated with that he’d crumpled them up and thrown them away—Spain must have found them and decided they were worth keeping.  
“Th-those weren’t for you, bastard!” Lovino sputtered upon seeing several drawings of Spain, which was embarrassing, that he’d tried to destroy. The worst part was that they were of Spain without his shirt on, Spain sleeping, Spain humming as he cooked and so on. Pictures that betrayed Lovino’s feelings for him as far back as when he used to claim to hate Antonio multiple times a day.  
Antonio chuckled and patted the Italian’s knee affectionately. “But you threw them away, and I think they’re very good, so I kept them.”  
Face burning, Lovino pinched the side of the Spaniard’s neck until he flinched away, then placed a soft kiss on the reddening spot. No matter what Antonio did or said, it was impossible for Lovino to stay mad at him for very long. The kiss made Antonio smile, and he settled back comfortably against the couch, arm still around Lovino’s leg, and the two continued looking through the albums.  
Morning gave way to noon, and before they knew it, it was nearly time for supper. They wouldn’t have noticed the passing of time at all if Lovino’s stomach hadn’t given an angry growl.  
With a frown, Lovino removed his arms from Antonio’s neck and leaned back to look down at his flat belly. “We haven’t eaten at all today,” he pointed out, lifting his gaze to find that Antonio had turned and was looking at him with bright green eyes.  
“We didn’t put the groceries away, either.”  
Lovino’s eyes widened in panic; he’d completely forgotten about the groceries. “Shit!” Bolting off the couch, he vaulted himself over the albums littering the floor and raced into the kitchen. Just as he’d known it would, the ice cream he’d bought had completely melted and was leaking out of its container. Already it had formed a pool on the counter and was dripping onto the floor into an ever-widening mess. “ _Sssspaaaaaaaaiiiinn!_ ”  
Amused, Antonio wandered into the kitchen and examined the mess. “Perhaps the ice cream should have been put away before you came to find me.”  
“Shut up,” Lovino growled, grabbing a rag from near the sink. “Just put the rest of it away while I clean this up.”  
Knowing better than to argue, he did as he was told until all that was left to take care of were the ice cream-covered bags. Antonio grinned and dipped his finger into the mess. “Hey, Lovi.”  
“Wha—” Lovino looked up from where he was kneeling in the floor, obviously irritated, only to have Spain smear the melted ice cream onto the tip of his nose. “ _Bastardo!_ What the hell did you do that for?!”  
Antonio smiled. “So I could do this.” Grabbing Lovino by the front of his T-shirt, the taller man crouched down and pulled him closer as the Italian sputtered and flushed. Green eyes sparkled mischievously as he brought their faces closer together, and he licked at the ice cream on Romano’s nose before it could drip off. Lovino’s face turned a dark red as his eyes widened in alarm.  
“H-hey, uh, what’re you d-doing?” His eyes tracked every one of Antonio’s movements as the Spaniard reached over and dipped his finger into the ice cream again without letting go of the smaller male’s shirt.  
“Hush, Lovi.” Antonio brought his finger close to the Italian’s face but, disobedient as always, Lovino turned away before the ice cream could be wiped onto him. This caused Spain to accidently get the ice cream on his cheek; he laughed quietly before licking it off, purposefully letting his tongue drag slowly over Romano’s soft skin.  
“Hng…” Eyes squeezed shut, Lovino knew he was trembling in the larger man’s grasp and he hated it. _Why_ did Antonio have this effect on him?! He should be annoyed and push the Spaniard away, but he couldn’t bring himself to.  
Still smiling, Antonio nuzzled Lovino’s cheek before releasing him and standing. Brown eyes glared up at him.  
“What was that all about?” Romano demanded, forgetting about the rag in his hand almost entirely.  
Antonio shrugged and grinned lazily. “Felt like it.”  
Disgruntled and embarrassed to have let the Spaniard get to him, Lovino threw the rag at the taller man as he climbed to his feet. “Well if you’re going to pull shit like that then _you_ clean up the ice cream, _bastardo!_ ” Before he could storm away, arms snaked around his waist and he was pulled back against Antonio’s chest. “Let go!”  
“No. I have a better idea, _mi amante._ ” The last bit was purred into his ear, making Lovino shiver; he gasped softly when something warm and wet glided along the curve of his ear, his entire body stiffening.  
“A-Antonio…”  
“ _Si?_ ” Still holding onto the shorter male, the Spaniard placed soft kisses on Lovino’s neck and behind his ear. His hands began to sneak towards the hem of the boy’s T-shirt and were half-heartedly smacked at.  
“Watch it,” came the quiet warning, though they both knew Lovino didn’t mean it.  
“But, Lovi,” Antonio’s tone was playful as he began pulling on the garment, “your shirt is dirty.”  
“Is not,” the Italian argued. Nevertheless, he lifted his arms above his head so the man behind him could remove the T-shirt with little resistance. The next thing he felt was an ice cream-coated finger sliding down his spine, leaving a trail of sticky substance, and then Antonio’s tongue moving back up the same path. Back arching, Lovino reached out to hold onto the counter for support.  
“Lovi~”  
Hands moved around to fiddle with the belt he was wearing and moments later his shorts fell to the floor, pooling around his ankles—his underwear soon followed, and Lovino’s face heated with a blush.  
“Y-you were planning this the whole d-damn time, _bastardo!_ ” he accused as rough hands slid up his sides and around to rub his chest. Antonio didn’t respond, his mouth busy with the more important task of leaving kisses and small bites on the Italian’s back and shoulders. “H-hey! Don’t ignore me!”  
“I’m not.” Antonio’s hands located the smaller male’s nipples and he rubbed at them, twisting and pinching gently on occasion so that Lovino shuddered and whined. “You have my complete,” a kiss just behind his ear, “and utter,” tongue trailing down his neck, “attention.” Gently, he bit the spot where Lovino’s neck met his shoulder and sucked, pressing his hips against the Italian’s backside. Lovino gasped softly.  
“You’re h-hard…”  
“ _Si._ So are you.”  
“A-am not…”  
Chuckling, the Spaniard abandoned one of Lovino’s nipples in favor of letting his hand slide down to his lover’s hip. “Really? Then what’s this?” He trailed a gentle finger along the side of the Italian’s erection, making Lovino whine in the back of his throat.  
“Ah…s-stop touching that, pervert!”  
“ _Pero me gusta lo que hace lo hace_.” Antonio bit the Italian’s neck again as he began stroking the smaller man’s member, and Lovino made a sound somewhere between a moan and a whine that was absolutely delicious. His hips shifted forward as if seeking more contact, and the Spaniard chuckled before wrapping his fingers around the length and squeezing gently.  
“A-Antonioooo,” Lovino whined with a shudder, leaning his head back against the taller nation’s shoulder and bucking weakly. “S-stop teasing!”  
“But I thought you weren’t hard, Lovi.” His hand moved slowly, tormenting the Italian until Lovino could hardly stand on his own. He was grasping the counter so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his knees shook with the effort of supporting his weight. He was also leaning heavily on Antonio, not that the Spaniard minded.   
“Fuck y-you!” Growing desperate, Romano bucked against his tormentor’s hand then roughly thrust his hips back against Antonio’s, knowing that the resulting friction on the taller man’s own erection would severely wear down his self-control. As expected, a stifled moan sounded from over his shoulder and Antonio’s grip tightened; nails dug into his chest slightly, but he didn’t mind the small amount of pain. He kind of liked it.  
“L-Lovi…”  
“Either fuck me or get the fuck off!” Lovino was nearly shouting, his frustration clear. In response, Antonio grabbed his hips and forcefully turned him around, crashing his mouth down on the shorter nation’s in a rough kiss. Lovino groaned as his mouth was invaded and grabbed at the Spaniard’s clothing, pulling at it desperately. The sensation of Antonio’s jean-clad hips grinding against his bare flesh was mind-numbing, but somehow he managed to remove the Spaniard’s shirt through the lust-haze that had engulfed him.  
Breaking away from the kiss, he ducked his head and latched onto that tanned chest, biting and licking as he was pinned against the counter, Antonio’s hands wandering over every bit of him that they could reach. What he hadn’t counted on was the fact that Antonio’s mouth was now level with a very sensitive hair curl.  
“Ah!” Trembling, the Italian’s eyes squeezed shut when his curl was licked and tugged at, and he bit Antonio’s collarbone harder than he’d intended. “Nng…”  
When the initial shock wore off, Lovino relaxed again. His hands sought out the button of those damn pants and he finally, _finally_ got it open so that he could yank the jeans down. To his irritation, Antonio was actually wearing underwear for once, though those took less than a second to remove, and then it was just them, him and Antonio, no boundaries between them as their bodies fit together perfectly.  
Antonio captured Lovino’s face between his hands and lifted it so he could kiss him, tongue slipping out to taste those lips before moving past; Lovino moaned softly. His own tongue pushed back weakly in a small fight for dominance but quickly lost to the strength of the invading appendage and he allowed himself to all but melt against Antonio’s chest.  
“Tonio,” he gasped when the Spaniard pulled away only to place kisses along the edge of his jaw, “please.”  
With an obliging nod, Antonio pulled his lover away from the counter and quickly but gently placed him on the floor, directly in the middle of the melted ice cream. Shocked, Lovino tried to sit up but was stopped by a hand on his chest and lips pressing against his own.  
“Wait, Lovi. I want to try something.”  
The Italian whined but didn’t otherwise protest, and the next thing he knew, Antonio had smeared ice cream across his chest and was busy licking the sticky, sweet substance away while Lovino tangled a hand in his chocolate-brown locks and moaned softly. Each time he cleaned the ice cream from his lover’s torso, Antonio placed his hand in it and wiped more of it onto Lovino’s body, slowly making his way lower and lower. Eventually, he got to the point of rubbing the ice cream onto the boy’s erection, eliciting delicate gasps from said boy. Then he pinned Lovino’s hips to the floor and began to lick at the ice cream.  
“Antonio!” Back arching, Lovino tightened his grip on the larger nation’s hair and bit onto his wrist with a whimper in an attempt to contain the sounds forcing their way out of him.  
Every lick was torture, the absolute best kind of torture. Little flares of pleasure raced up his spine, making his vision go fuzzy. He felt a hand gripping his thigh and barely managed to register the fact that somehow his knees had been hooked over Antonio’s shoulders, revealing his backside. When slick fingers slid along his buttocks in search of his entrance, however, he felt a flash of panic.  
“W-wait!”  
There was a small amount of irritation and impatience in Antonio’s expression when he looked up at the Italian. “What is it?”  
Lovino did his best to scowl. “If you think you’re using melted ice cream as lube, you’re nuts, _bastardo!_ There’s no way I’m letting you put that in there!”  
Green eyes stared at him until a cat-like smile spread over Antonio’s face. “And if I promise to clean you up afterwards, _mi amante?_ ”  
The suggestive hint behind that question made Lovino hesitate. “How?”  
“Oh,” one of Antonio’s hands slid down Lovino’s thigh and the Spaniard kissed the soft skin he found there, “I can think of a couple of different ways.”  
Hesitating, Lovino fidgeted and looked around as if searching for some other argument or excuse to not let Antonio do what he obviously wanted to do. Truthfully, he was too impatient to force the Spaniard to fetch a bottle of lube from the bedroom. But that didn’t mean he was at all comfortable with the thought of having ice cream put up his ass.  
“Give me your hand,” he muttered after a few moments.  
Amused now, Antonio reached up so his ice cream-coated fingers hovered above Lovino’s chest. The Italian glared back at him for a moment before gripping the offered hand in both of his own and quickly taking the fingers into his mouth. He sucked vigorously to both rid the fingers of every trace of ice cream and to wet them sufficiently to substitute for lubricant. In response, Antonio went back to tending to his lover’s erection, though this time he went farther than the licking he’d done earlier. This time he slid the member into his mouth and sucked gently to contrast the rough way Lovino was treating his fingers.  
“Hng…”  
The pressure of teeth on his hand let him know that what he was doing was definitely having an effect on the Italian, whether Lovino was willing to show it or not. Smirking, he dragged his tongue up the side then flicked at the tip, earning a small whimper; moments later, his hand was released.  
“ _Now_ you can prepare me, bastard,” Lovino growled despite the pleasure being given to him by the Spaniard; Antonio chuckled and once again located the smaller man’s entrance as he placed a kiss on Lovino’s tip.  
“Ready?”  
“ _Si._ ”  
Without any further warning, Antonio pushed his index finger passed the tight ring of muscles and into Lovino, making the younger nation tense and cry out at the small amount of pain.  
“Ah! A-Antonio…”  
“Hush, _mi amante._ It will feel good soon.” He waited a moment to give Lovino time to adjust to the feeling and to relax before he began moving his finger, and soon the Italian’s sounds turned from pained to pleasured.  
“More…”  
“More?” Antonio couldn’t help but tease his lover just a little bit.  
“ _Si! Piu!_ ”  
Obedient to the Italian’s commands, Antonio quickly but gently pressed a second finger into him and began pumping as Lovino’s heels dug into his back and his stomach arched upwards. He continued his ministrations with care, scissoring his fingers in an effort to stretch his lover and driving a loud groan from the smaller brunet. When he felt him loosening up a little, he added a third finger and spread them as far as the surrounding flesh would allow as Lovino gasped and bucked desperately, tugging at the Spaniard’s hair.  
“Enough, Antonio! Get on with it!”  
Chuckling at how impatient Lovino was, Antonio twisted his fingers so that the Italian moaned. “Are you desperate for me, Lovi?” he purred, watching the way Lovino’s chest heaved and enjoying the slight sheen of sweat that coated his lover’s body. Lovino growled at him, yanking on his hair to show that he did not appreciate being teased, but Antonio couldn’t help himself. He had always enjoyed teasing the Italian when he was little, and things were no different now that he was grown.  
“Lovi.” The name slipped from his mouth like silk as he removed his fingers and allowed Lovino to relax for a few moments.  
Panting, the Italian glared at him as Antonio kissed his way up the smaller nation’s body until he eventually reached his ear; he still had the boy’s knees hooked over his shoulders and was essentially bending him in half. “What?”  
“I know you want me.” His tongue darted out to lick that ear and Lovino tensed slightly. “You were begging for me when I had you pressed up against the counter.” To make his point, he bucked his hips against the Italian’s backside so that Lovino had to stifle a groan.  
“ _B-Bastardo,_ ” Lovino spat, scowling at his lover for all he was worth. “Th-this was all y-your idea.”  
“I don’t hear you complaining. In fact,” he paused to grind his erection against where he knew Lovino’s entrance was and held back his own sounds, “you seem to be enjoying yourself.”  
The friction made Lovino bite his lip and his eyes fell closed as he lifted his hips slightly, silently begging for more. When no more was given, he opened his eyes again and reached up to bite the Spaniard’s neck roughly.  
“Take me,” he hissed, “or I’ll leave you to jack off like the sorry bastard you are.”  
“But that means you would have to pleasure yourself, as well, little Lovi,” Antonio whispered in that same seductive purr. “And I know that isn’t what you want. You want _me,_ want me holding you down, driving into you, taking you hard and deep and fast and claiming each and every inch of you as completely and eternally _mine._ You want to feel me inside of you until it makes you scream my name because you know I will be calling yours just as loudly. Don’t deny it, _mi amante_.”  
Each word that rolled off the Spaniard’s tongue echoed in Lovino’s mind, and he found he couldn’t deny that that was exactly what he wanted. But that didn’t mean he had to be patient about it.  
“If you’re so sure about what I want, then why the hell are you being so fucking slow about it, _bastardo?_ ”  
“Because I want to hear you say it, Lovi. I want to hear how much you want me.”  
 _God fucking damn it! He just has to be in one of those moods when I’m this horny!_ Lovino thought angrily, looking away from the Spaniard with a huff. He was _not_ going to say it. Not a chance. If Antonio needed that kind of reassurance then Lovino didn’t know why he was lying naked in a puddle of melted ice cream on the kitchen floor with his boyfriend hovering over him and a boner between his legs. _Obviously,_ he wanted the Spaniard. Hadn’t they established that multiple times already?  
“I’m waiting, Lovi,” Antonio sang, an innocent smile on his lips. “Go on, say it.”  
“No.”  
“No?” Leaning down, he began to drop kisses on the Italian’s chest. “We both know it’s true, Lovi. I just want to hear you say it,” he wheedled, hands gripping the smaller nation’s sides to keep him from squirming away from the kisses.  
“If you know it’s true then you don’t need to hear me say it!”  
Antonio chuckled. “That’s the point. This isn’t about _need,_ Lovino. I love you. I _want_ you. And every now and then, it’s nice to hear that you love me, that you want me, too.”  
Well, when he said it like that…no! He wasn’t giving in. He was _not_ giving in.  
 _He’ll be all day about this if I don’t. The man has the patience of a turtle and he’ll keep me here until tomorrow if he has to._  
Lips pressing against his own distracted Lovino from his train of thought and his eyes instantly fell closed as he kissed Antonio back. It was a gentle, tender kiss, unlike the rough ones they’d shared before.  
“Please, Lovi.”  
Green eyes met brown and all at once, Lovino realized how important this was to the older nation. He wrapped his arms around Antonio’s neck and hid his face in his shoulder.  
“I love you.”  
Antonio smiled but didn’t say anything; he knew how sensitive the Italian was during these moments and wasn’t willing to ruin it by doing or saying anything that might upset his lover.  
“I need you. I want you, Antonio. Every moment of every day, no matter how tired or angry or stubborn I am. Even when I yell at you and call you names and threaten to leave and never come back. I want you.”  
Pushing his luck, Antonio whispered, “And now, at this moment?” He could feel Lovino’s face growing warmer against his skin.  
“I want you to take me,” the Italian whispered back. “I want you to hold me down and drive into me, hard, deep, and fast. Claim me, Antonio. Leave no doubt in my mind that I’m yours and you’re mine, forever, the way it should be. I want…I _need_ to feel you inside of me until the only word I can remember long enough to say is your name, and the only thing I hear is the sound of you saying mine, because I love you and I always will.”  
A sigh escaped Antonio and he pulled away far enough to look into Lovino’s eyes. The Italian’s face was as red as a tomato, the exact reason Spain occasionally called him “ _mi tomate,_ ” but he didn’t look away like he usually did. Antonio knew it had cost the younger male a great deal of pride to say everything he’d just said, and he wasn’t going to waste it.  
“Thank you, Lovi. I love you, too.” He kissed him again, softly, coaxingly, until Lovino’s lips parted, and then he slipped his tongue past them to explore the familiar space beyond. Even though he already knew every bump and ridge, he took the time to re-memorize all of it, until he had to break away just to breathe. Lovino shifted beneath him.  
“Antonio.”  
The younger nation’s tone reminded him of what he’d promised to do, and Antonio smiled. “You are ready, _si?_ ”  
Lovino nodded, once again burying his face in Antonio’s neck as the Spaniard’s chest pressed down on his own, pinning him to the floor, and he felt the taller man lining himself up.  
“Relax,” Antonio crooned, and a moment later he shifted his hips forward, pushing himself into the Italian’s body until he was engulfed completely; both men moaned, backs arching at the sensation. Before Lovino had a chance to catch his breath, Antonio’s weight shifted and the taller man began rocking his hips, pressing deeper than before.  
“Hng…A-Antonio…ah…”  
“ _Si, m-mi amante?_ ”  
Taking a deep breath, Lovino tightened his arms around the Spaniard’s neck. “F-fuck me hard.”  
Without a word or nod of agreement, Spain pulled back until only his tip remained inside Romano then quickly thrust all the way in again, driving a groan from the man below him.  
“F-faster…”  
Antonio braced his knees a little farther apart on the tile floor and then did as was requested of him, his weight pinning Lovino to the floor. That didn’t stop the Italian from moving slightly as he was slammed into, and his nails dug into Antonio’s back as the pleasure began to mount; he started lifting his hips to meet the Spaniard thrust for thrust. It was good, but it still wasn’t what he’d been promised, and he soon found himself squirming beneath the taller nation.  
“More,” he whined, nipping at the Spaniard’s ear. “H-hard and deep and fast l-like you said!”  
Hands gripped Romano’s shoulders as Antonio held himself up for a better angle. This way, he could easily give Lovino everything he wanted and didn’t hesitate to do so. The speed of his movements increased until he was panting, and he knew there would be bruises on Lovino’s shoulders and backside. The Italian didn’t seem to care.  
God, it was bliss. He couldn’t think straight anymore. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the feel of calloused hands on his shoulders, the sound of Antonio panting and groaning, groans that more often than not were his name, and the sight of green eyes clouded with lust, looking down at him from beneath half-closed eyelids and occasionally disappearing during a particularly loud moan. And the sensation of being claimed by the larger nation, of being driven into over and over again. It consumed him, made him forget everything else but Antonio because there was nothing but Antonio.  
Without any conscious decision, he moved his own hips in time with the Spaniard’s thrusts, only aware of the insatiable, burning need for more, to completely belong to him with every ounce and fiber of his being. His toes curled and spread apart and his hands grasped at anything within reach as he tried to hold on, tried desperately to form a coherent thought through the blinding pleasure that made him feel like he was about to burst out of his skin. Only one thing came to mind.  
“Antonio! Ah…!”  
“L-Lovino!”  
And then Spain shifted and suddenly a new height of pleasure struck Lovino, making him arch as he threw his head back and screamed his lover’s name for the world to hear. Desperation filled him and he reached for Antonio, brown eyes pleading until his shoulders were released, and he grabbed onto the Spaniard so he could kiss him. He kissed him with everything he had as the older nation continued to thrust into him, hitting that one spot that made stars flash before his eyes with nearly every movement, and he ground back against him in the mindless desire to return at least some of the ecstasy he was feeling. At some point his knees became dislodged and fell from Antonio’s shoulders; instinctively, he wrapped them around the taller man’s waist to pull him closer, bring him deeper inside himself.  
Tongues tangling, he buried both of his hands in the Spaniard’s hair to prevent him from pulling away from the kiss, breathing hard through his nose and in those tiny seconds when he could manage to get air in through his mouth. Every bit of air he managed to take in left as a moan and the occasional desperate whimper. Over and over again, he called Antonio’s name, the sound mixing with that of the other man’s voice saying his own, and it was a beautiful sort of music that cut them off from the world so that it was just them, just their hands and their mouths and Antonio inside of him and the way they moved together, fitting perfectly like they never would with another partner.  
“L-Lovino…hah…c-close,” Antonio moaned into the kiss, giving a particularly deep buck of his hips that had Lovino’s nails dragging down his back.  
“Ah! S-same…nng…Ant-tonio, make me c-cum!”  
The plea sent one of the Spaniard’s hands between Lovino’s thighs where he found the hardened member that had been neglected for so long and he began to pump it, his hand moving at the same speed and with the same force as his hips. Lovino’s nails dug even deeper, likely drawing blood, but Antonio didn’t care. His only thought was how painfully close he was to his release and that Lovino was just as close if not closer as he thrust even harder into the brunet beneath him; lifting his head, he bit the ever-present wayward curl that Romano and Italy both had and tugged on it, his tongue rubbing the bit trapped inside his mouth.  
“Oh, God! _C-cazzo, Antonio!_ ” An explosion of stars behind his eyes blocked out everything else Lovino could see as he hit his climax, hips bucking upwards before slamming back down onto Antonio’s length to force him as deep as possible.  
Spain groaned and thrust hard, almost abusively, before he reached his own release and came inside the Italian’s ice-cream-and-sweat-covered body, his lover’s name tearing from him in a desperate shout. “ _Lovino!_ ”  
Panting, chests heaving, the two nations continued to move until the pleasure faded into a lingering warmth. As gently as he could, Antonio removed his now soft member from the other man and lowered his hips to the floor.  
“Nng…” Face flushed, Lovino looked up at him and smiled weakly then reached for him the way he’d used to do when he was still a child and was too tired to walk anymore. “…Tonio…”  
Antonio sighed quietly and leaned down to kiss his lover as Lovino draped his arms around his shoulders. “ _Te amo,_ Lovi,” he whispered, then placed a kiss on the Italian’s nose.  
Content, Lovino looked back into the other nation’s green eyes. “ _Ti amo,_ Antonio.”  
They stayed like that for a little while, happy for no reason other than that they were together. Eventually, though, the ice cream stuck to Lovino began to dry and he squirmed in discomfort.  
“I need to shower…”  
“And we have to mop this up.”  
Lovino groaned and nuzzled into Antonio’s chest, pouting slightly; the Spaniard laughed.  
“How about _I_ clean it up while you go shower, then afterwards we can keep looking at the photo albums and have dinner,” he suggested, knowing the smaller nation wouldn’t pass up the chance to get out of doing chores, especially when he was tired. Lovino seemed to ponder it for a few moments before he nodded.  
“Okay.”  
Smiling, Antonio sat up and stood then pulled Lovino to his feet. As the Italian turned to leave the kitchen, he was caught by the hips and felt a tongue on his back.  
“H-hey! We just finished, what the hell do you want?” he stammered, stiffening. Antonio grinned cheekily.  
“Just wanted one last taste.” That comment earned him a smack on the arm before Lovino stormed out with a huff and went to shower. Nevertheless, Antonio was humming as he got out the mop and began to clean up the floor.

“Stupid Antonio,” Lovino grumbled, reaching into the shower to turn on the water. “Can’t even be serious after sex. Bastard.”  
When the water had heated up enough, he stepped into the stream and pulled the curtain closed behind himself. The ice cream washed off easily enough, except when it came to his hair. That took a good five minutes of intense scrubbing with shampoo because the substance had dried and solidified onto his brown locks in a disgusting mess that he was determined to vanquish. Only once he was satisfied that not a speck of ice cream remained did he finish his shower, dry off, and get dressed in clean clothes.  
“Are you finished cleaning up yet?” he called, walking back down the stairs.  
“ _S-si, mi tomate!_ ”  
Antonio was still in the kitchen? If he was done cleaning, then why wasn’t he back in the living room. “What are you—what the hell is that?!”  
Looking like the dog that ate his master’s slipper, Antonio straightened and hid a small object behind his back then laughed nervously. “N-nothing!”  
Not believing him for an instant, the Italian glared at his Spanish lover and held out his hand. “Hand it over.”  
“No.”  
“Hand it over, Antonio!”  
“I’d really rather not, Lovi.”  
“ _Hand it the fuck over or you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a year, you tomato-loving, perverted bastard of a Spaniard!_ ”  
Subdued and not willing to lose the rights to his bed or miss out on potential lovemaking with the angry Italian before him, Antonio sheepishly placed the object he’d been hiding in Lovino’s waiting hand. Brown eyes examined the object then glared at Antonio once more.  
“Why do you have this, Antonio?” he asked with forced patience.  
“Uh…because…it was…on top…of the cupboard?”  
“And why was it on top of the cupboard?”  
“Because I put it there…”  
“And _why_ did you do that?”  
“Be…because…”  
“Because, why?”  
Antonio lowered his gaze and chose not to answer.  
“Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, you better tell me why _the fuck_ you had a _camera_ hidden on top of the cupboard!” Lovino all but screamed as his embarrassment and anger got the better of him. “And it better not be because you were secretly filming us having sex because if that’s the reason then so help me I will castrate you!”  
The shock and obvious fear at the other nation’s threat in Antonio’s eyes said very clearly that that was exactly why he’d put the camera on top of the cupboard, but before Lovino could do or say anything, he grabbed the Italian and pulled him into a kiss.  
“H-hey! Mmph…I’m still mad at—mmm—you, _bastardo!_ ”  
Ignoring the other nation’s protests, Antonio held onto him tightly and deepened the kiss, refusing to pull away until Lovino stopped arguing and started kissing back, instead. Only then did he grow softer and eventually break the kiss so he could look into the Italian’s still-upset brown eyes. He smiled weakly and stroked his cheek then kissed his nose.  
“Don’t be mad at me, Lovi. I wasn’t doing it to upset you.”  
“What other reason could you have for filming us?” He was pouting now, more embarrassed and betrayed than angry. “Why not at least tell me or ask me?”  
“Because I knew you would say no,” Antonio replied, placing another kiss on the younger nation’s forehead. “I did it because maybe someday we’ll watch it together and it’ll be funny and cute and sexy.”  
“….really?”  
“ _Si,_ why else would I want tapes of us making love?”  
Lovino thought about it for a moment. “To sell to France or Japan or Hungary. And what do you mean, ‘ _tapes’_? Do you have more than one of those cameras stashed around the house?”  
“ _Si,_ but where they are is my secret.” The Italian pouted at that, making Antonio laugh. “No, _mi tomate,_ I would not give this to anyone. These tapes are just for us. So we can reminisce, just like we were doing with the photo albums.”  
“Oh.” Lovino hesitated then kissed the Spaniard. “Then I won’t castrate you.”  
Pretending to be relieved, Antonio kissed back for a moment then smiled at him. “I’m glad. Now, what should we have for dinner?”  
“Not ice cream.”  
The Spaniard laughed again. “Definitely not ice cream.”


End file.
